


They of Seasons

by MagicMage



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQ Themes, Magic, Multi, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-12 23:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13557873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMage/pseuds/MagicMage
Summary: Krys is an escaped slave from the country of Nendra who is trying to leave civilisation for a place called "the warring states".Mannon is head of the guard and personal guard to the Duke and Duchess in the city of Eskerth on the border between Mishen and the warring states.Their worlds crash together.





	1. Chapter 1

The forest was green, almost oppressively so. She hadn’t seen any colour except the green of _everything_ and the brown of the trunks of the trees. The trees rustled gently in the wind, as if the little rays of sunlight the leaves let in would make up for the sheer _greenness_ of everything.

She had been walking for so long she couldn’t remember the last time she’d stopped. She glanced up from her now seated spot on a bridge, into the remains of what had once been a road. She had followed the road for days, before coming across a river and taking to following that instead. Now she was back at the road, and it was in no less disrepair than it had been when she had left.

She had come across the bridge on her way down the river, and had sat down on the edge of it to rest her aching feet in the quietly bubbling river below. The remains of said bridge lay helpless in the water, large chunks of stone which had worn away until they could stand no more.

The entire middle of the bridge had been washed out. Perhaps there had been a storm which had flooded the river, taking the bridge with it. The intricate carvings on the side were coated in algae, showing how long the bridge had been in disrepair.

Even in complete disrepair, the road must have connected to a city somewhere. Sometime. Hopefully. Though, the washed-out bridge wasn’t a good sign. She was beginning to wonder if the forest ever ended.

She was starting to worry about food. Surviving off a bag full of rolls and cured meat only got one so far, eventually she had to stop for provisions. She hadn’t had fresh food for a while, and she’d had to pluck a few pieces of mould off her bread roll before eating it that morning for breakfast. Now, as she took the roll out again, she inspected it closely before taking a small piece off it and popping it in her mouth.

She couldn’t figure out if she should keep following the river, or return to the road. It was hard to tell after having come so far whether the river or the road was more winding.

She wondered if her return to the road was perhaps the gods signalling her to use it after all, though they had been completely silent since she’d arrived in this land.

“Maybe I _should_ follow the road...” She muttered to herself softly, rubbing at her throat because her voice was hoarse from disuse.

People became uneasy when they realised they were talking to a person who didn’t talk very often and was clearly foreign. She tried to remember to talk to herself sometimes to stop from getting too hoarse, but she didn’t talk often anyways. Sometimes she found she’d gone days without talking, entirely by accident.

With a soft sigh, she pushed herself to her feet. She tucked her roll back into her pack before heading down from and around the bridge to cross the calm river. The river barely reached her knees at this point, a relief after having followed it to where it had turned into rapids and then grown to a depth far above her head.

One hand rested on the handle of her pack as she trudged down the road, the other had come to wrap around the octahedron shaped pendant which hung over the middle of her sternum on a metal chain. She played with the crystalline figure between her fingers, completely absentminded as she continued down the foliage devoured road.

Her feet began to throb not long before she finally came to a crossroads. The road she was on which led into the thick forest abruptly met a new, cobblestone, road. The forest itself stopped just as abruptly as the dirt road, now there were fields which appeared to spread out forever. It was like someone had divided the land.

She stepped off to the side of the road and slipped back into the bushes which lined the forest. It was there that she sat down behind a tall boulder that marked the fork in the road. There was a small pavilion across the road, but she preferred to stay in shadow.

She rested her head back against the rock, feeling exhausted. She wondered which way down the road she should travel from this point on. Cobblestone gave her more hope that there was a city somewhere close by, but she didn’t know how to read the sign posted at the corner of the road which said which way was which. If she went the wrong way she may run out of food before she reached her destination.

The sound of hooves brought her out of a nap she hadn’t realised she’d fallen into. A glance at the sun in the sky told her she hadn’t been out that long, at the most an hour. With a soft yawn, and a twisting stretch, she climbed to her street and calmly stepped around the boulder to get a look at who was coming. She hoped it was someone who would be able to direct her to the closest town, or perhaps someone who she could convince into giving her a ride down the road.

Her feet still hurt.

There was a carriage coming down the road, pulled by well-bred horses with sleek brown coats and strong muscles. The carriage was protected on all sides by a guard of about eight people, walking alongside the carriage proud and alert. They were travelling at a leisurely pace.

The man who was driving the carriage noticed her standing on the side of the road immediately, as did the guards on her side of the carriage.

“Excuse me,” she called to the man, keeping her tone and stature impassive. There was a slight huff as the man called the horses to slow and glanced down at her as if she were dust which had spoken. “Where are you travelling to?” she asked.

The man was older. His hair, which had been completely brown at some point was now streaked with white and grey, as was his thick moustache. This hairline had receded slightly into a sharp widow’s peak. His face had few wrinkles though, as if his ageing had all focused on his hair. His eyes were so blue they were almost white. He held the reigns tightly as if he feared she may take them from him.

“Eskerth,” the man started. “What is a woman doing so far into the forest without so much as a horse to take her out again?”

He didn’t trust her, which she thought was the proper behaviour for someone meeting a person on foot at a crossroads such as this. Perhaps he believed that she was stalling for a group of bandits, but his armed men were watching her so closely there was no way she could so much as swat at a fly, let alone signal an ambush.

Well, that and there was no ambush to signal.

Eskerth, she realised, was the name of the capital city. What luck that she had found the road to take her there, finally, as it meant that she was one step closer to the end of her journey. Now she needed to see if she had found a carriage to take her there.

She enjoyed this part, the part where she got to pretend like she was some weak girl in need of help. Men seemed to like when girls needed help. Her lips tugged down at the sides almost of their own accord, and she brought tears to her eyes as if the man’s very question had brought forth terrible memories that haunted her.

“Sir, my apologies for disrupting your travels. I was travelling with my family when we were ambushed by bandits... My mother told me to run, but in my fear I became lost.” She sniffled for emphasis. “I hadn’t even the notion of where I was until now, wandering for days in the forest. All of my food is gone, I’ve seen no sign of my family.” The tears which had filled her eyes began to fall and she covered her face. The implication of having lost her family was probably what caused the men at arms to finally relax, and the demeanour of the man on the seat of the carriage to change from wary to sympathetic.

“My Lord and Lady will be asking why the carriage has stopped so suddenly, they did not ask to take a rest here...however I cannot rightly leave a young lady in the forest all alone, can I?” He glanced over his shoulder at the men standing on her side of the carriage, who nodded. Whether it was because they saw no horses or other people in the forest, or because they agreed with the man’s statement, was not clear. All that she knew was that, with those nods, she had bought her way into the city, and on to the carriage of a Lord and Lady. Suddenly her day was going _marvellously_.

“I have no form of payment...” the girl whispered, looking up from her hands with an expression of tentative gratefulness. She made her lip tremble. Her crystal, which may have been used as payment, had been tucked safely into her tunic and out of sight.

“I would not think to ask it, not after what has befallen you. We will take you to Eskerth. If your family is anywhere, it would be there. Please, sit.” The carriage driver motioned to the space beside him on the seat.

She smiled. She had been _so_ tired of walking. “Oh, thank you so much, sir, I cannot even begin to express my gratitude!” she said gleefully, clumsily climbing into the seat beside him and watching as one of the men who had stood beside the carriage previously climbed up beside her. The man smiled at her warmly, but she knew he had climbed up beside her to make sure she didn’t do anything untoward.

“I only ask one thing,” he glanced at her before snapping the reigns and driving the horses to action, “your name.”

“It’s Krys.”

“And mine is Gilsly, a pleasure to meet you, Krys,” The man replied, and then urged the horses in to motion again.

~OoO~

Krys sat up straight as they approached the walls of Eskerth, having dozed most of the way to the city. It was dark now but, even in the dark, she could see that the walls reached up well above all of their heads. Such was probably befitting of the capital city; she’d been to the Royal City on the coast which had built their walls out of sandstone. These walls appeared to be granite, presumably from the cliff that the city was perched on.

Krys was not used to seeing such walls around cities, however.

She stared up at the walls that seemed to grow as they drew close. She heard the man beside her chuckle slightly, the first real sound he’d made since they’d been introduced. She glanced at him and frowned slightly.

“What are you laughing about?” she asked, crossing her arms. She ignored how she accidentally elbowed the man beside her.

“I had assumed you came through the royal city, foreign as you are, I figured you would have seen the walls there. This city’s walls are short and ugly in comparison, have you no walls in your own country?” As the man explained himself Krys felt her cheeks turn red, and she turned away from him.

She’d only spent very little time in the royal city and had found that the walls of that city were boring, yellow. There was nothing special about the colour yellow, and she had felt like those walls were more for show. She didn’t think they would have stood up to anything, whereas these walls seemed to be fit for defence. In her ‘own country’, Nendra, they seldom had walls around cities because the land flooded so often it took the walls down quicker than they could be put up.

“I have not been to the royal city,” she lied. “My family came through a small port north of the royal city…our new home was supposed to be inland, so that is where I went when we were ambushed.” As she finished her sentence they headed through the gate of the city, Gilsly called a greeting to the guard at the gate before slowing the carriage to a stop.

“Eskerth is the eastern capital, so even if you cannot find your family here you can find passage to the village that you were travelling to,” the man said, glancing between her and the guard who was sitting beside her.

The guard was giving the man a look, and Krys read into it with a sigh. “Is this where I must leave?” she asked softly, fluttering her lashes slightly in hopes of deterring the man. She’d already realised he was going to have to remove her from the presence of his Lord and Lady before they caught him giving passage to someone they’d never met, but she’d hoped to get an easy ticket into their house.

“I’m sorry to say,” he started as he set a comforting hand on her shoulder. “This is as far as I can take you. Do not worry, though, they will let you into the city.”

The guard who had been sitting silently beside her climbed out of the carriage and went to say something to the gate guard. Krys sighed softly, shrugging her shoulders and turning to step clumsily off the carriage after him. She turned back around to wave as she stepped out of the way.

“Thank you so much, sir. I cannot thank you more than I already have, should it seem repetitive...but you have truly saved me.” It was true, the walk to the city would have taken her at least another half day on foot and, with so little food to carry her, part of her was truly thankful for the man’s kindness.

She curtsied awkwardly as the guard who had been sitting beside her returned and then quickly disappeared into the shadows of the first building she could find. The man had been right, no one so much as batted an eyelash at her.

In the shadows she waited, until the caravan started moving again. She managed to slip in behind them as if she’d always belonged there. They were in the bustle of the city now, and despite it being late there were still people all around. People finishing up their business, travellers, beggars, thieves, and strangely enough there were people setting up market stalls as if they planned to make business after dark. Krys thought this was a strange practice, but things often seemed strange to her here. It had been a while since she had experienced the culture shock of a big city.

Going with the flow of people still wandering down the street, and slipping out of sight whenever any guard turned to check the perimeter of the carriage, she followed the carriage through the city. As they climbed the cliff, the quality of the dress and the houses rose with the streets. She started having to dodge into the shadows of buildings, lest she be caught by one of the city’s higher class citizens, but she managed to follow the carriage for an hour to a large metal gate surrounded by stone walls which were only slightly shorter than the walls which had been the opening to the city.

Krys’s breath caught in her throat. She had followed the carriage to the top of the hill, the very highest of the high-class houses. The only explanation for living on the top of the hill, to Krys, was that this family was _very_ high in the hierarchy. She had located the house of the Duke and Duchess of Eskerth.

Krys had always thought it odd that Mishen had a capital city and a royal city, the royal city on the coast and the capital much farther inland, but she had accepted it as one of the many oddities this land held. All she knew was that from here she could get to the boarder in a day and then disappear forever into the warring states.

Now, however, she was stuck watching the gate close in front of her as the carriage disappeared behind the wall. She frowned for a moment, shuffling to the side of the road and then forward to take a good look at the wall. A few of the walls in the royal city of Emelen had given her trouble, having been smoothed down into nothing and built of bricks, but the nobles of this city apparently trusted their commoners because the walls were built of rocks of all shapes, uneven, and perfect for climbing.

Krys grinned, glancing over her shoulder at the people behind her on the street. Few people even offered her a glance, too busy to get to where they were going and far too important for her. Perfect.

With a deep breath, Krys called the wind to hold her up and dug her hand into the first available place, then placed her other hand a bit further up, she began to pull herself up placing her feet on the nearest available foothold. It took nothing, climbing trees and climbing walls was easy when the wind was on her side, holding her up. She was sitting on top of the wall within seconds, glancing down behind her to make sure no one was watching, and then jumped into the garden below her.

“Defence, fall break,” Krys whispered, feeling the air rush up to meet her and then guide her down to the ground without so much as a crunch from her feet landing in the dirt.

The garden she had landed in ran along the length of the wall, which clearly encompassed a large piece of land. The house before her was three stories tall and made of the same rock that the walls were made of, with the same varying shades of grey. The front of the house was not facing the gate, as was apparent by the lack of both carriage, guard, and grand entrance. There were also no servants waiting here for their masters to come home. The only thing on this side of the house was a tiny side door.

Krys clenched her teeth in displeasure. It was a servants’ door, clearly. She wrinkled her nose and stepped out of the garden she’d landed in. She’d accidently crushed a few plants, but she shrugged it off and began making her way across the lawn.

With this much space between the gate and the house, she was momentarily concerned that she would be caught but, clearly, whoever may be using the servants’ door was at the front of the house to greet the Lord and Lady.

As she approached the side of the house she looked up to make sure no one was peering out windows at her. It was lucky that they weren’t, she’d clearly picked a good day to trespass.

Vines clung to the grey stone walls of the house, though they were currently barren. It was winter after all, even though the land didn’t show it. Green things continued growing even in winter. It rarely snowed. The mildness made blooms and leaves stay on the flowers, bushes, and trees. The vines seemed intent on it being winter, however, green with life yet with no leaves so they looked like thick ropes wrapped around the walls.

Krys quietly approached the servants’ door. Such doors were never locked, the servants often liked to be able to come and go as they pleased, and the nobles simply didn’t realise it, completely self-centred as they were.

She slowly pushed open the small wooden door and stepped silently into a large room, leaving the door open a crack in case she had to run out of it later. The floor was hardwood, uneven and scarred in some places. There were white thin mattresses and blankets piled up on each other at either wall, the room was bare otherwise. Krys wondered if it was the servants’ sleeping quarters.

Krys grinned. Not a soul occupied the room, as she had suspected. They were all up front, surely, greeting their Lord and Lady and any children they carted around. She knew she would not find anything of use in this room and stealing from servants was something she would never do.

At the end of the room was a hallway, with several doors along its walls. Immediately at the exit to the room, there was an archway that led to a set of stairs which steeply led up to the main floor of the house. For a moment she debated whether she should try her luck with the family having arrived so soon before her. Silently she listened for any voices coming from the hallway at the top of the stairs, when she heard none she began up the steps. Silently, she summoned breeze to take the weight from her footsteps.

She froze when she heard a voice.

“Yes, Mannon, the trip was refreshing enough, though we did have that unplanned stop on the way around the Great Forest.” A woman who she could not see spoke with authority somewhere beyond the hallway.

Krys arrived at the top of the stairs, noting that there was a set of drawers in front of her, and glanced down the hallway which turned immediately to the left at the top of the stairs. She could not see far beyond the end of the hallway as it seemed to lead directly into the side of another staircase, this one was stone where the hallway and stair she stood in was wood. She guessed it led to the entrance-way.

She was quite pleased with herself to have come this far without having run into anyone, though she wondered where the servants were.

“I must apologise, my lady, there was a…hold up. I will mention to Gilsly that you were displeased,” A man spoke now, his voice smooth yet etched with irritation.

“No need Mannon, Gilsly is putting the horses to bed, and the stop caused no trouble,” the woman stated calmly.

The two people who were speaking were either standing on opposite sides of the opening at the end of the hall or were standing completely out of sight of the hallway in the main part of the entry way. Either way, it meant that she couldn’t go any further than she already had. 

With curiosity, and because she was essentially stuck, Krys stepped up to the drawers and looked them over briefly. She glanced up to check and make sure the two were still talking. She was sure that they were not the Lord and Lady of the house, but a servant and the perhaps one of the Lady’s maidens. Ladies didn’t talk to servants.

There were two drawers, both labelled with something Krys couldn’t read, that Krys pulled open to reveal several envelopes. Each of the envelopes had yet more writing Krys couldn’t recognise. Inside the envelopes was money, a great deal of money. She hadn’t seen so much money in one place before, not in her life.

Who in their right mind would put money in a servants’ hallway? Clearly, Krys thought, these nobles were as foolish as they were self-centred.

Each envelope appeared to hold at least 100gil, which was more than enough money for an entire family to live on for a month. Even if the other envelopes she hadn’t checked only held half as much money she was set for at least a year. She wouldn’t need to stop in this city for very long beyond planning her journey and buying supplies.

It didn’t take much thought for Krys to decide to take advantage of her sudden fortune and grab the envelopes: Because anyone would have taken the money, and the fool who had left it there should have known better than to trust servants. She was surprised that it had been left there at all.

Quickly she grabbed the envelopes and slipped them into her tunic. Then, just as silently as she had come into the house, she left. Excited to find herself somewhere warm to stay for the first night in many months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to say thank you to some people here, because this is the first chapter and because it took me so long to get this out.
> 
> First of all, thank you to my dear sister Heather who has listened to my stories from the get go and loved them along with me. Who encouraged me to write when my life was hard.
> 
> Second, thank you to my friend [Breezy](https://twitter.com/MottInThePot) who is a beautiful artist and creates worlds just as beautiful as mine.


	2. Chapter 2

He’d only seen her for a second, as if she’d never been there at all. A quick flourish of a wrist and then down the stairs back into the staff’s quarters.

She’d been short by Mishen standards and so thin that it looked as if he could have snapped her in two. Her hair had been jet black, a strange colour for their country, _and_ it was wavy, the ends just brushing her shoulders.

She’d been wearing a dirty tan coloured tunic, though he wasn’t sure if that had been its original colour, the waist had been cinched with a black satin belt, with dark brown trousers underneath. What had hit him the most, out of her entire appearance, was that she’d been wearing simple straw woven sandals.

He knew where he’d seen her immediately, she had been the girl that Gilsly had picked up off the side of the road. He had sat beside her, watching her sleep on the ride. Even though she hadn’t noticed him for even a second, he had noted her blue eyes first.

Bright, and guarded.

He realised what she must have been doing by the drawers. He felt a sinking sensation, and the urge to chase after her.

Had she come with the purpose of stealing from the staff? If so, why had she been so far out in the Great Forest? Why had she stolen from the staff and not family?

“Mannon?” Lady Kirsten of Eskerth called to him questioningly, bringing him out of his thoughts and dragging him back to reality. He looked from the hallway back to her, catching the slight confusion on her fair face.

As usual Lady Kirsten’s light brown hair was pulled back into a clean and proper bun, her face framed by bangs and two long tendrils that hung down to her chin. Her striking, sharp, features made her beautiful. Her almond shaped, light brown, eyes with long lashes were her prettiest feature.

Even though she only came up to his nose she always stood with authority, sometimes he felt she was taller than he was. She always held herself in a perfect posture and wore the finest dresses. Even as she stood before him, in slight confusion, her shoulders were back and her hands were folded over her front and resting on her skirts.

Mannon bowed slightly, apologetically. He very rarely lost himself to his thoughts, though now he was wondering why he hadn’t called out to the girl in the hallway. Perhaps he had thought that she deserved to get at least a meal in her before he caught her and dragged her back to face the justice of the Duke.

“My Lady?” he started, as he straightened again. She tilted her head obligingly. “Is there a country where the people wear straw sandals?”

Lady Kirsten furrowed her brows in suspicion, but she quickly drew it back into a look of calm. She was well trained. “The Nendrans wear sandals in summer, why are you asking Mannon?” Her voice was like a song.

“Nendra...” He glanced down the hallway again, though he knew the strange girl would not be there. “Do Nendrans have black hair?” he asked, Lady Kirsten shrugged in the corner of his vision.

“I have never met one personally, only read about them. They live very far away. Why are you asking this so suddenly?” Lady Kirsten’s tone was yet still indulgent, but he could catch the edge in her tone which said she did not enjoy the charade.

“Just wondering,” he muttered, ignoring how Lady Kirsten raised an eyebrow at him as he turned back to her. “If I may excuse myself?” Mannon asked, bowing once more to the Lady before him. She nodded graciously, watching him briefly as he went down the staff hallway.

He heard her turn to join her family in the dining room, and tried to tell himself he hadn’t just lied to her in his silence.

He came to a stop at the end of the hallway, briefly searching the drawers labelled ‘kitchen’ and ‘house staff’ respectively. They were completely empty. Mannon’s sinking feeling worsened and he turned to sprint down the stairs into the staff’s quarters. Everyone was in the dining hall now, enjoying a late dinner, so he knew that there would be no one down there.

Mannon hoped that the girl he’d seen would be down there, but he was the only one when he came to the bottom of the stairs. He rushed to the staffs’ side door, certain that there was no way that the girl could have got away. He figured that she had slipped in with the carriage, and the gate was now firmly shut and locked for the evening.

Yet, when he yanked the door open and stepped out into the mild night air, she was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t on the lawn between the house and the wall, nor was she by the gate where he’d expected her to be.

How had she disappeared so easily?

He considered running after her into the city, but even at this time he knew that she would end up lost in the crowds, besides he couldn’t just leave the estate without at least notifying his second in command. After he’d gone and done that, she truly would be gone.

Soon the staff would be leaving the dining room, they would go to the drawer to collect their weekly pay, and they would find that there was none for them. Mannon reluctantly turned to go back to the house, ready to help his Lord and Lady quell any upset that such a revelation would cause.

Pondering the girl with the woven sandals, he resolved to alert the gate guards to the girl’s presence and to go searching for her the next day.

~OoO~

Krys sighed softly as she lay on the bed in the room she’d reserved at a low-town public house and inn. The city had been very strategically laid out, the richest at the top of the hill and the lowest in a slum at the bottom. The room _smelled_ like poor, the walls were wooden, but stripped.

The bed, a simple creaky wooden frame and thin mattress of hay, was welcome, however. She hadn’t had a mattress for so long that she almost fell asleep the second her head hit the pillow. Though, judging by the way the man at front of the inn had looked at her she needed to pay a visit to the local bathhouse.

Before her stint to the mansion she had not had enough for even a bathhouse in the slums, but now she had enough for that and more. She had found a total of 1600 gil in the envelopes she had taken, even after paying for a few days at the inn she was going to be well off. Gil was worth twice as much in the warring states, she would be able to get by for years if she was smart with her money.

With a stretch of her shoulders, and a groan, she pushed herself up from the tiny bed and slipped a hand into her tunic. She pulled out her found money, and separated out a enough for a bath.

She slipped the rest of the money, in its single envelope, in between the mattress and the bedframe. Even though she’d been given a key to the room she was certain that the innkeeper would send a maid up to snoop around once she left, but she also wasn’t going to chance getting mugged by thieves who noticed she was carrying too much for her worth.

She had a solution to the first problem, however. A wicked smile spread over her face as she crossed the room and then turned to take it in from the door, eyeing the spot on the bed which had the money under it.

She flexed her hand slightly, feeling power pull into her fingers and running her hands along the excited gust of wind she’d called to her possession. “Defence, trap,” she instructed softly, feeling the gust rise and then spread itself over the doorway. Anyone besides herself who tried to enter her room would be attacked by what seemed to be a miniature gale.

People often left her to her own devices once they realised that she was a mage.

She turned back to pull the door open, feeling the wind caress her cheek as she left the room. A silent promise, as well as a thank you. Wind liked having a use. She closed and locked the door behind her, her lips quirking into a smile for the gods who had lent her the power.

As she descended the stairs one of the maids walked past her, her nose wrinkling slightly before she realised Krys was watching. The maid then curtsied shortly, as if she had not just visibly insulted her guest, and then continued her way up the stairs. Krys continued to force her smile as she waved to the inn keeper, and then went out the door.

In Eskerth, it seemed, no matter what time it was the streets were busy. Someone was always awake, something was always happening. Even though it was late there was a market going on just outside the inn. Krys gave a small amount of her time to a few shops.

She was hungry, her stomach turning slightly with the reminder that she’d entered a city full of fresh food and that it was all at her fingertips, but she knew she should wait until after her trip to the baths.

Tainting the food with the dirt of the road wouldn’t make it taste any better.

She headed up the hilly roads. The streets, cobblestone even in an area verging on a poor district, slapped uncomfortably against her feet. She hadn’t walked on stone in a very long time, her feet may have been hardened by underbrush and rock climbing, but they still stung from the solid ground beneath her.

The bathhouse attendant was sleeping when she walked in. Krys could immediately smell the cleansing salts that bathhouses in this country used for purifying water and people. Krys cleared her throat and the young girl, who was clearly not being paid enough to stay awake, jumped to her feet.

“Oh, hello.” The girl sounded slightly addled from her sudden awakening, yet her eyes showed that she was alert to the person she’d never seen before coming into the bathhouse. It was clear that she had been working in the poorer district for a long time, perhaps since she had been quite young.

“Hello.” Krys smiled at the girl, whose light brown curls were sprawled around her face. Her darker skin tone, curly hair, and bright green eyes told Krys she was Bengani, not Mishenese. “I’d like to use the baths.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” the girl quickly jumped to pull her cash case from beneath the counter. She had a slight accent, indicating she’d probably been born in Bengain and brought by family.

Krys pulled the money she had out of her tunic, but she wasn’t used to using printed money and didn’t immediately recognise which denominations she had. She couldn’t read the numbers.

The girl looked up at her lazily, regarding her as if she was stupid, she felt it. “It’s two gil for a bath, four gil fifty niks if y’want towels, soap, an’ the like added,” she explained.

Gil was Mishenese paper money, 100 niks made up 1 gil. She knew that much. She frowned down at the money, trying to work out which bill was which. After a moment she guessed, offering the bill to the girl. The girl raised an eyebrow at her, but took the money anyways and handed her the change in return.

She promptly stuffed the change back into the pocket in the front of her tunic, thinking she’d given the girl a much larger bill than she should have.

 

“Perhaps a waist purse?” the girl offered, trying to be helpful, it sounded more like goading someone who had just required too much change.

Krys kept her pleasant smile on, watching as the girl reached under the desk again and put a tub with a towel, soap, and hair rinse on the counter.

“Easy fingers are far less likely to reach into a person’s tunic, don’t you agree?” Krys asked, pulling the wooden tub to her as she watched the girl’s mind work.

“How’ll you make sure no one takes your remainin’ coin when the shirt be waitin’ in the changin’ rooms?” The girl asked, watching as Krys took the tub off of the counter and hugged it against her chest.

Despite the majority of money being bills in Mishen, lower city folk tended to use “coin” as a catch all phrase for the nation’s money.

“Perhaps I’ll just have to trust that no one will come in, or maybe I don’t mind where this bit of coin ends up.” With a slight nod, Krys turned away from the girl behind the counter. She knew that she wouldn’t find the rest of her money in the changing rooms after her bath. The girl probably needed it more than she did anyways. She was certain she wouldn’t need all of the money she’d found anyways.

Before she began stripping off her clothes she did a thorough check to see if anyone else was in the bath house. It was probably best that she was washing later at night, very few women went any place alone after dark even in a capital city with copious guards. She neatly folded her tunic, placing her money on top so that the girl would feel less like she was taking it and more like it had been offered to her.

With a second check around the actual washing room she came to the conclusion that she really was alone, and quickly slipped into the steaming water of the rectangular bath.

There was a haphazardly placed partition with pealing paper and paint between the male and female sides of the bath, and a wooden grate in the water. Krys felt like if she tried hard enough she could push the partition down, not that she wanted to. It looked to have been imported from Bengain as well, they often used paper doors. The worst of the holes in the paper had been covered with yet more paper to prevent indecencies.

Krys wondered if they knew how much water liked to eat paper.

She set the wooden tub on the edge of the bath beside her, picking up the soap and quickly going to work scrubbing herself clean of the days of dirt build up she’d acquired from the forest. Taking soap-less baths in rivers was never really that successful.

Seeing the dirt come off her arms and out from under her nails was refreshing. She scrubbed until she was pink, until the soap had turned an unattractive grey colour; then she dropped the soap back into the tub, and sunk further into the warm water.

She sighed softly. There was something soothing about slipping into a warm bath after weeks of travelling the countryside and bathing in rivers, she could have fallen asleep if she stayed long enough.

After resting in the water for a few more minutes Krys realised that her bought time was probably coming to an end. Another person could walk in at any moment, and she didn’t want to have to deal with that. So, with ears listening intently for anyone who may be in the changing room or in the entryway, she quickly washed her hair, got out of the tub, and returned to her clothes.

Sure enough, the money that she had left behind was gone, and when she left the bathhouse several moments later the girl behind the counter gave her an extra toothy smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Krys yawned and pushed the blankets back from her waist as she sat up out of bed. Even though the sounds of the city outside had woken her a few times, it was far easier to sleep when one wasn’t concerned about wild animals or bandits. She had slept better than she had in a long time, and still felt refreshed from her bath the night before.

When she had returned to the inn, one of the maids had looked thoroughly windblown. Krys had grinned as the maid had looked up at her, turned bright red, and then darted into the kitchen when she had returned.

Naturally, her money had remained untouched.

She sighed softly, pushing herself off the bed and dressing in silence. She recovered her money from the mattress and the bedframe, stuffed it in her tunic pocket, and wandered down to the main floor of the inn.

It was still quite early, and the sun was peering in through the small glass panes that bordered the front door. The bar was slightly illuminated, but the room was still dark, and dust was clearly visible in the bright light that seeped in.

There was a woman standing behind the bar, meticulously drying a single plate with a grungy grey dish towel.

“Good morning,” the lady said, flashing her a genuine smile and looking _far_ too awake for the hour.

Krys managed a wage, which turned into an attempt to supress a yawn. She gripped her shoulder tightly, stretching her neck to try and work out a kink.

“You’re that foreigner who set that weird trap, aren’t you?” the bar lady asked. She had paused in her dish drying to give Krys a proper look over.

Krys shrugged; “I don’t appreciate my room being searched when I paid for it.”

“If the inn-keep had known you’re a mage, she probably would’ve paid you to stay here,” the bar lady told her, as if that made up for the searching.

“That’s a strange thing to say,” Krys mumbled, looking wistfully at the door and hoping the conversation would end soon.

“You really are foreign, aren’t you?” The bar lady pulled her back from her momentary escape, and she looked back at her with mock interest. “Mages’re celebrated here.”

Krys smiled indulgently. They were always so quick to point out how foreign she was, even if it was rude. She swallowed the urge to defend her home country, feeling no connection to it either way. More, she was insulted at the slight to the gods who gave her magic.

She knew well that mages weren’t celebrated anywhere, they were feared. The gods were the only ones who truly celebrated her powers.

“I think I’ll be heading out,” Krys told the bar lady, not caring to wait and see if she was going to say goodbye herself.

She stepped out into the morning sun.

~OoO~

Mannon sighed as he entered the day market.

The staff had been extremely tense when they had realised their wages had been stolen. This, followed by a morning announcement from Lord Elson stating that the lost wages would not be repaid immediately, had left the staff clearly discontent despite the loyalty the most staff expressed towards the household.

They had left the house for their day off with a quiet air of displeasure.

Mannon found himself guilty of not catching the girl in the hallway, worse he still had not reported her to the Lord, Lady, nor his second in command. Perhaps his pride had got in the way, perhaps he still felt bad for her. He wasn’t sure, but he desperately wanted to make things right without getting the girl hurt.

Something about the look in her eye when she’d told her story in the forest, about her family, regardless of whether the words had been true or not, had been genuine.

 As far as he knew she was still in the city. He had already checked with the guards at the main gates and the side gates to ensure they had not seen someone of “Nendran description” leaving the city.

Sure enough, only the guards at the main gate had even remembered who he was speaking about.

He’d been asking around for most of the morning and had been intrigued to find that his search led him to the lower city. All the thieves he’d ever caught had been foolish, spending their loot as if they were afraid it expired. This one had apparently been treating the locals with quiet respect and spent her time in the slums willingly.

He had managed to get some information from a young Bengani at the lower city’s bath house, but she had been very unwilling to cooperate.

It left Mannon wondering how the foreign girl had made friends so quickly. Any other hint had been similar:

There may have been a foreigner, but she was kind enough that the people who had seen her were not willing to point him in any direction.

So, as a last effort, he’d come to the market to see if he could find even a shred of information. He’d begun to lose momentum, however, and was currently pretending to look over a stall of vegetables instead of thinking about _the girl_.

The woman behind the stall had been carrying on a conversation with him, even though he showed no interest in buying, and was showing even less interest in the conversation. She’d just finished telling him something about the carrot harvest the year before, when he caught sight of black hair out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see her disappearing into the crowd and felt a rush of adrenaline. He’d _found her._

In a sudden rush, he held up his hand to the woman to stop her midsentence. “Apologies about your tiny carrots, but I have something to catch up with,” he blurted, then quickly turned and rushed off in the direction the girl had gone.

He followed her silently, watching her wandering around the stalls. She bought little, seemingly provisions, but she also pocketed various items. So far, he’d seen several foodstuffs and traveling supplies disappear into the satchel she wore over one shoulder, hanging down to her waist. The satchel appeared new.

The reason he hadn’t arrested her on the spot?

She had also handed off an entire loaf of bread to a collection of children begging on the side of the road.

Instead of arresting her, he found himself wondering how she had become so good at stealing, and why she was so quick to give when she was also so quick to take.

He also wondered if she’d noticed him following her, as she had begun weaving in and out of groups. Soon they were out of the market, and she began taking turned down alleyways.

Once they were on the main street again, and climbing the hills into the richer district, Mannon was certain that she knew he was there. Then, with a flash of bright blue, her gaze met his as she took a sudden turn and disappeared into the mid-town armoury.

He quickly followed her in, the idea of her having a weapon made him incredibly uneasy. Even if she was a good person sometimes, her crimes were adding up.

He’d known the man who was behind the counter for many years and met his gaze as soon as he entered. The armoury was connected to a smithy, and the man who ran the smithy had been providing Eskerth’s guard and military with armaments for many years.

He realised just as quickly, however, that the girl had vanished. In fact, the man behind the counter didn’t even seem to realise that someone else was in the store.

~OoO~

Krys had recognised his voice from the second he’d brushed off the lady at the vegetable stall back in the market. Dressed like a guard, the voice from the manor house. It was clear he was following her, and while she had to commend him for his effort, she had grown tired of the cat and mouse game they had been playing.

Now she was upstairs in a store that had far too many weapons on display. She wondered how many swords a store needed, or if she’d stepped in to some strange weapon and armour museum. Though, she wasn’t certain the Mishen _had_ museums.

She darted for the backdoor, a door she had noticed most of the buildings in the city had on the second floor. Almost every building had a small balcony which looked out onto the streets below. The door was locked, but it was a poor lock.

She took a deep breath, focusing on fire, and then blew into the lock and watched as it melted away like nothing.

“What are you doing?”

Krys panicked, jumped, whirled around and threw her hand out. Soundlessly fire shot out of her hand like a shield, and then cocooned back around her.

There was a sharp gasp, and the sound of stumbling and things falling on the other side of her protective wall. She pressed her back against the door, breathing sharply. She watched through the small gaps in the flame as the man looked at her creation as though there would be an opening.

“What?” she asked, as though she had been the one put out by the entire ordeal.

There was a pause, and Krys wondered if the man was calculating his next move.

“My name is Jek Mannon, I am the head of the Duke and Duchess’s personal guard. I came to talk to you,” the man said finally. “About the money you took from Eskerth Manor.”

She snorted. What a terrible guard this man must be.

This man, _Mannon_ , with his messy short, messy, blonde hair, and dull brown eyes. He was much taller than she was, but she was not intimidated. Sharp cheek bones, angular jaw, a _pretty boy_. She was entirely unimpressed with his fake gentle act.

“What money?” she asked haughtily. Their eyes met briefly through the flame, and she glared at him.

“I saw you.”

Krys felt panic rise in her chest. “When? Do you have proof? Do you just follow foreigners around and accuse them of crimes? Let me guess, the Lord and Lady decided to blame me, and they sent you, their pet dog, to come collect me?”

There was a growl from the other side of the fire. One of the swords that had been caught the fire was beginning to melt. She reached behind her for the doorknob.

“ _I_ saw you. You were wearing that same shirt, and-“

“And you’ll do _anything_ your masters tell you do so, won’t you? You’ll run back to them and lick their faces after this, chew all the bones they throw at y-“

There was another growl, and then a sword coming through the fire at her. She dodged to the side as it sunk into the door, which opened slightly behind her. She took a shaking breath.

There was a sigh. “Will you listen to me? Or not?” Mannon asked, as if he’d missed her on purpose. As if there wasn’t just a sword hovering several centimetres from her face.

“You expect me to listen to you when you just tried to kill me? Is this how you people make friends?” She ducked under the sword and out the door, calling her fire back as she rushed out onto the deck.

~OoO~

The fire was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. All the swords that had been caught in the flame were red hot, including his own. He pulled it from the door now, watching as the red disappeared as if it had never been there. He slipped it back into his belt.

He’d lost his temper. He was glad he had missed.

He followed the girl onto the balcony, but when he stepped out she was nowhere to be seen. The street on this side of the building was several floors below, there was no way she could have jumped.

The door shut behind him and he whirled around to find she was sitting on the roof, with her legs hanging over the edge. She sat and watched him with mild interest.

“How…how did you?”

“I climbed,” she replied. She studied her nails, but he could tell she was still watching him.

He looked over at the drain pipe, the only thing she could have climbed, it was rickety, rusty, and barely hanging on to the wall it was attached to.

“Unlikely,” he grumbled, looking back up to see her shrug. He felt like a dog looking up at a cat who had climbed a tree. Her earlier words came back to him and he grit his teeth. “Will you, or will you not, listen to me?”

Another shrug, but she made no move to leave. She knew he couldn’t reach her, and he knew he couldn’t catch her. He hadn’t factored her being a mage into his brilliant plan for capture.

“Would you like to tell how wonderful your masters are?” she asked, her tone mocking. She continued to look down on him, he felt he was being patronised. “Or you could try throwing your sword at me again. That’s not actually how those are meant to be used, by the way, they’re more of a swinging, slashing, weapon.”

“You stole the staff’s wages,” Mannon accused. For some reason he felt like that should upset her, and watched as one eyebrow raised, as her unreadable expression softened slightly.

“Servants don’t get paid,” she told him. “They get told what to do, kicked when they don’t, they get left out in the floods when they get too old to serve.”

He watched her lean forward slightly with her elbows pressed into her thighs, resting her chin in her palms.

“Not here. Workers are paid here,” he told her. “As it stands, the Duke is unable to compensate the wages, _and_ the Duke and Duchess think it was one of the staff who took the money to start with.”

Now both brows raised, she looked surprised. For a moment he thought he’d got through to her, but then she scoffed and leaned back until she was lying on the flat roof.

“Are you certain they do not simply _refuse_ to compensate the wages?”

“Of course not!” he snapped. “They think one of the staff is the culprit, so they now have to recoup the loses _and_ catch the thief an-“

“Perhaps they should find servants they can trust then.”

“No one’s ever broken into the house before!” Mannon snapped, and then recoiled. No, it had sounded much more like he was pleading with the girl on the roof. Even though he’d been leaning forward with his hands clenched into fists, it felt more like he was negotiating with her than the other way around. He rubbed his hand down his face and groaned.

The girl sat up, narrowed her eyes at him, and stared. He wondered if she was reading his mind or deciding her next move.

Just as the gaze became uncomfortable she shifted, then hopped off the roof to land in front of him soundlessly.

“What would you like me to do about it?” she asked, looking up at him. She made him feel intimidated even though she only came up to his chin.

He was still aware she had fire at her beck and call, there had been something magic about the way she had jumped off the roof as well. The wind had picked up around them.

“I think you should repay them,” he told her.

Her lip twitched downward and then she stepped back to lean against the door. “How?” she asked, her voice barely audible. She looked down at the ground at her feet, her hair falling into her face, and her tone guilty even though her shoulders were still stubbornly squared.

“You could work, at the house, for the Duke and Duchess,” he offered.

She was in his face in an instant, moving fast than he’d ever seen anyone move. It was as if the wind itself propelled her forward, and he felt that slam into him. He felt the railing of the balcony against his back.

“I will _never_ , _ever,_ be a servant again.” Her tone was hard, but he could hear panic in her voice rather than anger. Her hands were balled into fists at her side, but it was the wind that was tugging at him that made him nervous.

He wanted to know why.

He reached out to grasp her shoulders and pushed her back slightly. She was trembling and glaring up at him like he’d insulted her in the worst way possible. She wrenched out of his hold and took a step back, wrapping her arms across her chest. The wind began to die down.

“You _would_ be paid,” he told her calmly. Her eyes narrowed. “You could return what you haven’t spent, and repay what you have within a few months. The head of staff and her daughter just left quite recently, I could get you in.”

Although she was still glaring at him, she had gone silent. The stared at each other silently, until he got the succinct feeling she was about to cry.

“You expect me to believe that a servant just _left_?”

Mannon sighed. “Or I can arrest you for thievery and breaking and entering a royal household.”

The girl snorted. “You could try.” She turned away from him, staring down into the street below. The wind stopped tugging at him.

He wanted to give her a chance. She seemed to be defiant and strong willed, but he’d felt her shaking, and he could see she felt guilt. She seemed more terrified than she was letting on. Somewhere, under the bravado, was a girl who was kind to the people in a city that wasn’t even her own.

He believed she wanted one too.

“Or, you could do the right thing and repay the wages you took from the _staff_.”

Her brows furrowed, and she frowned for a moment before she looked entirely guilty again. “I didn’t realise,” she told him softly. When her gaze met his again she sighed heavily. She held her hand out to him, looking like she thought she was signing her entire life away. “I will make things right.”

He took her hand, shaking it briefly and smiling at her gently. “Tell me your name, I’ll get you the job by sundown.”

“Krys,” she told him, withdrawing her hand quickly as if his had been dirty and hiding it by crossing her arms again. “Just Krys.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I made a note to make a note somewhere (here I guess now) that "o" sounds in Mishenese are pronounced as "uh".  
> So it's not Manno-n it's Man-uh-n.

By the time Krys and Mannon reached the great hall of the Eskerth Manor, Krys had no idea how the man had convinced her to agree to go with him.

She had gone with him, quiet and unresponsive, from the moment they had shaken hands. He would go back to the house and tell Lady Kirsten that he had found a prospective hire in the market and would return the next morning to bring her from the inn to the manor. She would not have considered running, but his explanation had made it quite clear that he had expected to find her at the inn the next morning.

She had agreed silently. He had walked her back to the inn she had been staying in, bid her good evening like they were _friends_ and then arrived the next morning to walk her up to the manor.

She had lain awake the night before, staring at the ceiling until the first crack of dawn that morning. She had spent much of the night counting away her racing heart and calming the breezes that found their way into her room. She had not eaten breakfast. When Mannon had arrived to escort her, she had simply followed alongside him, her hands balled into fists at her sides with her gaze on the ground.

At some point he’d tried to make conversation, but her stomach had been eating her from the inside. He had instead described the entire layout of the manor grounds and house in detail.

Krys had listened passively.

She had taken money from servants. It had never occurred to her that servants _could_ be paid, but in this strange country they _were,_ and she had stolen their livelihood. She had left the inn earlier in the morning and sold much of what she had purchased in a local pawnshop for a slight profit.

Men and their willingness to believe a woman was interested in them.

She kept that money in the pocket of her tunic now, hopefully hiding the thudding of her heart in her chest.

They had arrived in a modest entrance that had led off to a sunroom with fancy windows and a small entertainment room on opposite sides, as well as the great hall which held the stairway Krys had seen a few days prior.

The room was incredibly large, with stairways above that reached up to the full four floors of the manor. The manor itself seemed to be a tower with rooms built around it, the great hall led off to the dining hall on the right, the tea room to the left, the washing and laundry rooms to the back, and the small hallway that led to the servant’s quarters tucked in adjacent to the side of the stairs.

The great hall itself was almost entirely made of stone, but Krys remembered that the small hallway had been build of wood.

The Lady of the house had been waiting when they had arrived, standing three stairs from the bottom and staring her over as Mannon shut the doors behind them.

Krys flinched at the sound of metal shutting her out from the outside.

“Good morning to you, Lady Kirsten,” Mannon said to the Lady with a slight bow. Krys thought if he poured more honey on his tone it may make her sick.

Lady Kirsten nodded to Mannon and then looked back at her, she made a strange attempt at a curtsey with her gaze firmly on the stone floor at her feet.

She was certain the building had been a tower.

Silence.

There was a small child somewhere in the house who was having a tantrum.

A sigh from the Lady. Krys flinched.

Mannon cleared his throat. “This is Krys…”

“Yes, I see that,” Lady Kirsten said. Her voice sounded like music, Krys glanced up at the Lady from under her brows and then focused on the foot of the stairs. She watched as Lady Kirsten descended the steps and crossed the hall to stand a respectful metre away from the.

Her eyes were boring a hole in Krys’s forehead.

Then, as if Krys had disappeared entirely, the Lady turned to Mannon.

“I find it highly unusual that you felt the need to go searching for _staff_ , Mannon,” Lady Kirsten told him.

“My Lady, I assure you she intends to do good work. She needs a fresh start,” Mannon replied.

There was an exhale of breath from the Lady that Krys took as displeasure for having been spoken to so casually.

Krys felt pleased that Mannon was in trouble and not her, trying to ignore how strange it was that a _guard_ had somehow convinced a noble to hire someone. She took their moment of conversation to look around the hall, to take in the double doors to the dining hall, and the way the stairs crossed above. There was a red carpet on the floor between the entry door and the stairs, it had a yellow fringe and tassels at the four corners.

In fact, the entire room was made up quite elegantly despite looking like a tower.

Then there were eyes on her again. She glanced up as far as the Lady’s nose to be sure she wasn’t imagining it and then stared at the floor again.

“Do you intend to do good work?” Lady Kirsten was suddenly asking her.

Krys grit her teeth. There was a sudden urge to turn and run. She _hated_ nobility. She _hated_ how they spoke. She _hated_ how she had to speak to them. She wanted to laugh in the woman’s face for hiring the person who had stolen from her workers.

But she had stolen from the workers.

“Yes,” she breathed, the word barely more than a whisper. “M-My Lady.” She was following the lines of golden embroidery on the hem of the Lady’s green overdress and noting how her brown boots were expensive leather.

“You are from Nendra, are you not?” Lady Kirsten asked her.

Mannon inhaled sharply beside her. She looked up at him for a second with narrowed eyes before staring back at her own toes.

“Yes, M-“

She was interrupted by a sigh from the Lady.

“Don’t worry about that, simply answer me,” she said.

Krys flinched, glancing up before staring at the floor and nodding stiffly, then flinching again and croaking out a, “Yes.”

“I want you to know that as a staff member of this household you have access to three meals a day, a place to sleep and wash, if you require it, and a monthly wage of 95gil. You will have one half-day and then one day off a week, starting on Firesday,” Lady Kirsten told her.

Krys still didn’t know what days of the week were which, time hadn’t applied to her in a long time. She didn’t know how to reply. She felt like it was a trick.

“You may leave our employ whenever you wish,” Lady Kirsten added, but appeared to be speaking to both her and Mannon this time.

Krys looked up at Mannon again, whose face was a bit whiter than she remembered it being. The Lady’s attention switched entirely to Mannon now, and Mannon nodded stiffly.

“Then I assume you’ll be explaining the schedule to her. After all, you felt the need to bring her here,” Lady Kirsten said to him.

“Yes, My Lady, thank you,” he replied stiffly.

Krys was shocked to find that the woman, who she hadn’t felt the need to look at until now, was not only beautiful, but was watching Mannon with a stern, almost accusing look. Mannon was holding her gaze.

Krys couldn’t decide whether she felt unease from the strange silent communication, or the fact that a noble and a guard were staring each other down.

The screaming toddler broke the uncomfortable silence and was much closer now.

At the top of the stairs, in fact, being barely held by an old woman who appeared to be struggling to keep her footing.

Krys was shocked to see the cool, stern, expression on the Lady’s face to quickly switch to one of concern. She turned around as if they had never been there, turning to head up the stairs to help the woman with the child.

“Oh Arita, I’m so sorry,” the Lady apologised, reaching to pick up the hyperventilating child with hair like straw and cuddling him to her chest as he wailed incoherently.

Krys felt like the sky had fallen for a moment, but was quickly pulled from her shock as a hand wrapped around hers and she was practically dragged across the great hall into the left corner beside the stairs and through the doors into the laundry room.

“Why are you touching me?” Krys demanded, snatching her hand back and glaring at the man as the door swung shut behind them.

Mannon turned to explain himself, but Krys’s gaze had fallen on the room of three women who were staring at them.

This room was entirely wooden, like a barn. It even had large double doors sliding doors at the back which opened into the grounds, outside was a man who was hanging laundry on a line that hung between the house and a storage building.

Krys took all of this in quickly, before making terrified eye contact with each set of eyes that were on her.

The silence brought the gaze on the man from outside as well.

“Krys?” Mannon’s voice brought her back from the eyes, and she glared at him.

“Never touch me again,” she spat. She then swallowed, taking another look around the room before briskly walking through it and out the double doors.

She felt the magic in the floorboards as she went, noting charms for quick drying and flame-retardant respectively.

Mannon followed her, and she felt like she was being chased. She wanted to jump onto the roof of the storage building, but instead she stopped as she reached it and turned to face him with her arms crossed.

The others had gone back to their work, Mannon stopped too close to her and she backed up against the stone wall.

“Look, I’m sorry, it’s just-“

“Just what?” Krys demanded through grit teeth, trying to keep her voice low enough that the laundry man wouldn’t hear her.

“You could be _grateful_ , you know,” Mannon told her.

“Oh, I _humbly_ apologise,” Krys snapped, stepping away from the building and starting back towards the gardens which lay on the other side of the manor. “Thank you so much for making me a servant, I’m _eternally grateful_.”

She spoke over her shoulder, with Mannon still following her for some reason. She wished to be left alone.

As they reached the edge of a hedge maze that Krys thought was a ridiculous thing to have, Mannon sighed.

“Rule one, don’t use the main doors unless you are with a member of the family. Rule two, breakfast is at morning 8 bells, lunch is at noon 12 bells, and dinner is at night 6 bells. Do not be late, or I will be talking to you. Rule three, you are not to go out after dark.”

Krys turned around to see the man had stopped walking and was watching her with his brows furrowed. Krys raised an eyebrow, calling a gust of wind around her legs silently and hoisting herself to sit on top of the hedge.

“Rule four, do not scale the walls, _any_ of the walls,” Mannon added.

“The dog pouts,” Krys muttered.

“ _Excuse me?”_

“I will make this right, in case you are concerned,” Krys said softly, inspecting the wear marks on the knees of her trousers.

There was a sigh.

“You are free to wander the city on your days of, but _please_ be back for dinner.”

Krys glanced at Mannon again, brows raised sarcastically, but nodding all the same.

“I’m under arrest, I suppose,” she concluded.

She turned away from the man again, leaving him to stand on the ground as she looked wistfully at the walls that surrounded the manor. Beyond them was freedom, and now she was trapped.

“What happened to you?” Mannon asked.

Krys felt like ice had been stabbed in her chest, the wind suddenly picked up and she hopped just in time to be knocked off the hedge and back to the ground. Only her experience made it look like she’d simply jumped off the hedge rather than falling.

“Ask,” Krys dared, meeting Mannon’s probing gaze with her own cold one. “Go ahead, ask if you want to know.”

Mannon’s expression changed from inquisitive to pitying. Krys’s lips tugged back in disdain and she closed the distance between them to stand took close and glare up into his eyes, to challenge his chestnut brown with her sky blue.

“That’s what I thought,” she snapped, and then proceeded to walk back to the manor, leaving the man standing in silence and staring after her.

**Author's Note:**

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